


What Is Real

by AllisonChance



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 08:23:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/847382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllisonChance/pseuds/AllisonChance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>River is taken from Lake Silencio to the Stormcage. She's confused and disoriented, her mind a jumbled mix of real memories and memories of the aborted timeline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Is Real

The suit turned her away from the Doctor's—no, the Teselecta's—fallen body. The visor slid down over her eyes. The boots walked forward carrying River with them. She heard shots behind her as the the water lapped up around the knees of the astronaut's suit. She remembered how dark and confining that suit had been when she was a little girl. How she'd learned to make it do what she wanted. Now she wanted to turn around, but found she didn't have the strength.

 Her ears were ringing and head felt muddled. She remembered the pyramid, the Doctor's uncharacteristic anger with her, and his tenderness as he stepped close to her, hand tied to hers, and kissed her. Waking underwater, the beach, the Doctor's form crumpling into the sand, the other people she could barely see—all of that drained out of her mind. Like so much salt running through a funnel. The lake water washed over the visor and then all was dark and murky.

 She woke up in a space shuttle. She was lying on a hard bed, her hands cuffed to the railings. There was a droning hum in the background and above her, through a glass portal, stars streaked by.

 She blinked.

 “That was quite a sedative,” said a male voice.

 There was daylight. A queer blue daylight. She was not on earth. River turned her head. She was lying in a different bed, but still restrained. The walls and ceilings were plain concrete. The unearthly sunlight filtered through two horizontal slits along the ceiling. Each slit was about twenty centimeters high and a meter long. Rain drops lashed the glass.

 “This should do the trick,” said the voice again. The speaker was standing at the head of her bed. She heard a few electronic beeps and jarringly awake. As if she'd plunged into a cold lake.

 The lake was important. She had to remember the lake. And the Doctor's eyes. The little Doctor in the Doctor's eyes. But that was a secret.

 “Up we go,” said the voice.

 The top half of the bed rose to a shallow incline so that River was reclined The speaker moved around so that she could see him. He was a short, squat man with bulbous nose. He gave her a quick glance over, and then waddled out of the room.

 Left alone, River tugged at her restraints. The Doctor's eyes. They were important. He told her to look into his eyes when he married her. He married her because she had murdered him.

 River froze. The icy realization that she had murdered the Doctor jolted through her.

 The door opened and a grim man followed by four soldiers walked in.

 “River Song?” said the grim man.

 “Yes,” said River.

 He looked down at a data pad. “You are hereby charged with the murder of the Doctor.”

 “I'm being charged for a murder I don't even remember committing?” River laughed, though she knew her laugh sounded forced. It was true that she didn't remember the act, but she knew that she had. She must have, the Doctor had asked her to. Straining her memories, she remembered water.

 “You are,” continued the grim man, ignoring her interjection, “sentenced to twelve thousand consecutive life sentences and imprisonment at the Stormcage Facility with the possibility of an early release contingent on completing tasks specified by the Papal Mainframe, subject to her Holiness' discretion.”

 With that pronouncement, he turned. The soldiers stepped out the way, saluted and the grim man swept from the room.

 Without a word, the soldiers freed her wrists from the restraints. She was handcuffed and then frogmarched out of the room.

 Her cell was located midway down it's own corridor. At the far end of the corridor was a toilet and a shower. River shut her eyes. For twelve thousand consecutive life sentences (or less—depending on the whim of the Papal Mainframe) she would have to ask permission to use the toilet.

 Once the door had been secured, the soldiers marched away. The Stormcage Facility was known for two things: it's wealthy, high profile inmates and it's impenetrable security.

 She sat down on the bed and rubbed her forehead. She remembered sitting in her study at night, looking at her notes, thinking about how exciting it was that she was going to present her paper on the Doctor (and hadn't it been fun to write that with his help?) to the students the following morning. And then she remembered sweet talking John F. Kennedy into giving her the funding to build a military base inside the Great Pyramid. She remembered meeting a vibrant red head named Amy and how Amy had been quick to help her.

 She remembered knowing that time had gone so horribly wrong because she had refused to kill the Doctor. She remembered how frustrated she was that she couldn't figure out _why_ time would stop because of that. She remembered the Doctor. How brilliant and angry he had been when he had seen her. She remembered his face right before he asked for a strip of cloth and then ripped off his bow tie. She remembered Rory's confused consent, and Amy's immediate.

 And how he had whispered in her ear and the giddy delight when the miniature Doctor had waved a ridiculous hat at her. And she remembered the kiss.

 After that, she remembered stars and darkness, and waking up in a concrete box.

 She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut. The bed sank down next to her, and an arm wrapped around her waist.

 Warm breath tickled her ear. “Don't scream,” said the Doctor.

 “You haven't given me a reason to, yet,” she said, dropping her hand from her forehead. She turned and looked at him.

 He sat on the bed next to her, all tweed coat, bow tie and braces. A self-conscious smile quirked his lips. “Maybe later, River Song.”

 She swallowed a saucy response. Instead she said, “Where are you?”

 “Distorted realities,” he said, “Are a rubbish place for a wedding.” He squeezed her waist and bumped his forehead against hers.

 “Oh, definitely,” she said.

 He tilted his head and brushed his lips against hers. A light kiss, but her eyes fluttered closed anyway.

 “There is somewhere I'd like to take you.”

 

* * *

 

River stepped out of the TARDIS wearing a simple floor length dress with a loose flowing jacket over it. The Doctor stepped out behind her dressed in the same tuxedo he had worn in Berlin. They had landed in a quiet, domestic living room. From the furniture she guessed mid-twenty first century. Golden red late-afternoon sunlight filled the room.

 The Doctor held out his arm and gallantly said, “Shall we, Doctor Song?”

 She grinned at him as she took his arm. “Lead the way, Doctor.”

 They walked through to the kitchen and to the window which overlooked the back garden. There was a party going on. Paper lanterns were lit and hung from the trees. Fairy lights sparkled in the bushes. Party goers milled around the garden. A few held drinks. Everyone seemed to be good friends. A few children darted between the adults.

 River spotted her parents. They sat on a bench beneath a tree engrossed in a photo album, pointing out pictures to a pretty black woman—Martha Jones, River realized. Rory looked up first and when he saw the Doctor and River a smile spread across his face. He elbowed Amy who squealed when she saw her daughter and the Doctor.

 Instead of spending her first night in prison alone and confused, River spent it with her family. She danced with her father and sat arm-in-arm with her mother. The Doctor introduced her to past companions. They all knew her and were delighted to see her. She played with the children and talked to the adults.

 And then, when the last of the day light had faded and the stars sparkled over head, the Doctor took her hand and lead her to the center of the garden. Amy had arranged a circle of flowers. The Doctor produced a long blue strip of cloth from his pocket. He handed his hat and cane to a barrel shouldered man named Sontaron named Strax.

 Tenderly he lifted her right hand to his lips and kissed it. “I would like to marry you, River Song.”

 “I'd like that very much, Doctor.”


End file.
